


Dad Tip #798: If you can't shield your rocket, leave it in your pocket

by Chaifootsteps



Series: Dad Tips with Craig and Gabriel [1]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Anal Sex, Body Worship, Gratutious fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Coital Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 04:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11592921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaifootsteps/pseuds/Chaifootsteps
Summary: Pancakes and spinach smoothies. Self-esteem issues. Craig and Gabriel figure it out.Self-indulgent hoo-ha that no one should ever read.





	Dad Tip #798: If you can't shield your rocket, leave it in your pocket

When they were 19, they made a drunken pact to shoot each other if they ever found themselves on the business end of a zombie horde. That's the kind of thing you carry with you for a lifetime, and Gabriel's not the kind of man to forget.

That in mind, they still call each other “bro” anyplace the English language will allow it to fit in. They’ll still take any excuse to grapple and play fight. Their relationship really is remarkably unchanged in a lot of ways, except for the fact that they don't steal bread from the dining hall anymore and there are more handjobs.

(Like... _a lot_ more.)

It’s actually kind of eerie how well it all worked out. Craig needs someone to tell him that it’s okay to eat Cinnabon every now and again and Gabriel needs something with a nice, comforting foundation already in place; Craig needs some breathing room to sleep in on weekends and Gabriel, perhaps more than he realized, needed to change a few diapers, heat up a few bottles, pretend to eat a few chubby little hands.

(”What a felon! What a menace to society!”, he scolds River when she tries and almost succeeds at yanking out his nose stud. ”You little potato. You’re lucky I love you or I’d give you to the C.H.U.D.s.!”)

He needed to have Craig show him how to make proper blueberry pancakes without scorching the berries on the pan and then make them for Briar and Hazel on an autumn morning. Briar and Hazel who, it should be said, have placed him on probation when it comes to dating their dad. 

(Literally. That’s what they called it.)

It’s a strange transition, to be sure. They’re living with a foot in both worlds -- the one where they’re two old college buddies reminiscing about kegstands and the one where they can’t get enough of kissing each other. 

It’s a strange transition. It’s not a bad one.

 

* * *

 

They first went all the way that last night in the woods, miles away from anything and heady with isolation. It took them ages to warm up to it again, because there’s friends with benefits and then there’s  _old_ friends with  _new_  benefits that include actual dating, and that takes some navigating. If Brokeback Mountain taught them anything, it's that relationships built on a foundation of tent sex need very gentle handling. Also, that there's nothing funny about internalized homophobia. 

But they’re getting the hang of it. Bit by bit, they're figuring out the steps.

Like tonight, with Gabriel on his back in the moonlight, ass propped up on a pillow and his toes brushing the backs of Craig’s calves. Slow, easy, methodical strokes, in and out. In...and out. Hands stroking, and quiet, save for little hitches of breath and self-conscious laughter.  

They often joke that they have sex like old people. That suits them just fine for now.

“Good?” Craig whispers.

“Yeah. ‘S really good.”

Every time they’ve done this, it feels head-tiltingly intimate to Gabriel. Like he’s open, exposed, wide and raw in the elements. For a moment, he thinks of that first night in town, waking up naked and alone and with a sick, pounding headache, and thinking with quiet clarity that his days of being able to do casual hookups had come to an end. But he doesn’t like to think of that first night, not when Craig’s with him, and their arms are around each other; not when things are okay.

Not now.

 _So, so good_.

Afterwards, they lay together in tangled sheets and hold each other like sappy gross awful men. Their testing the waters with slow, deep coupling tends to lead to the kind of orgasm that builds almost too sluggishly and feels like a knot. It always makes his toes curl. 

Leaves him wanting to look at Craig and nap at the same time.

“ _Still_  not over that sound you make,” Craig tells him. Runs his fingers over muscles damp with sweat, massaging out the tension in the sore ones. How does he know which ones are the sore ones? Easy; they’re all sore.

“Still not over that part where you put your dick inside me and move it around.” He thumbs the spot where Craig’s eyebrow glitches out. Groans as a knot gets coaxed into leaving his poor abused spine be. “You’re really amazing at that, by the way. Just so you know.”

“What? The backrub, or the...?”

“Yes.” 

He situates himself deeper into those arms. Strong, smooth hands taper off massaging and start roaming, apparently just because.

“No, hey, come on, don’t grab my ass fat,” he laughingly chides as Craig sneaks a handful. It’s the same anxiousness that creeps up whenever his mouth gets a little too close to Gabriel’s thighs, which are not Craig’s thighs and he sometimes doubts ever will be.

“Asses are supposed to have some fat on them. That’s kind of the whole point.” 

Gabriel fake laughs. He’s never been good at fake laughing. 

Craig sees through it in a second.

“Gabe. Don’t make me tell you how great your body is. ‘Cause I will.”

“Sounds fake, but okay.”

Craig props himself up on his elbow. He slips the sheet down, down, and it's only when his fingertips start up a gentle, ambling trek over Gabriel’s chest and stomach that Gabriel realizes that oh, he’s actually completely and 100 percent serious about this. 

“Got that upper body like you’ve been putting up roofing or something. Nice, thick arms, nice chest...you can tell you’ve put work into it, but in a sort of...organic way? If that makes sense? It’s hot, whatever it is.” He crosses his left pec, flicks the nub; possibly remembers how close Gabriel came to getting them pierced. “Also, you’ve got cute nipples. I’m not even into nipples on guys. You showed me the world.” 

"Shining, shimmering, splendid?”

“...You saw that opportunity, you went there, and I’m still attracted to you. That’s it. That’s how hot you are.”

Gabriel buries his face in his hand and makes a sound he doubts he could replicate. Craig pushes back a handful of his hair and kisses his neck as he toys with his stomach.

“Don’t know how you get so down about your abs. You eat cheesecake and still have abs. And you want to know the truth? Your stomach actually looks healthier now than it did in college. It looks like you’re actually eating food.” Gabriel would argue that at least a couple of those jungle juice blends were calorie dense enough to count as a dinner, but there’s no time, because Craig’s tickling his hips. Not heading downwards. Lingering.

“I like that there’s that little bit of give in your ass. Just a little. I could play with it all day.” He smirks. “...Can I play with your ass, bro?”

Stupid sexy Craig and his stupid sexy body positivity game. Gabriel nods, and feels his breath catch as his best-friend-cum-boyfriend goes to town on his backside. It’s rounder and softer in his hands, and Gabriel is keenly aware that it’s not capable of killing a man like Craig’s ass is probably, but it’s amazing how fast he’s ceasing to care. 

“Oh man, your  _thighs_. You’ve got crazy sexy thighs. All that running you’ve been doing is showing in your legs, and then the only softness is right up high in your inner thighs. Right where softness works really, really well.”

“Yours aren’t soft.”

“They actually are, a little. If you want to go digging around next time you’re in there, I’d be totally fine with that.”

“Definitely gonna do that.”

“And I like your thighs when they’re around me. Your legs spread and your hair falling down...you know how much I love your hair.”

And yes, yes. Yes he does. As Craig’s flawless ass is to Gabriel, Gabriel with his hair down is to Craig. This whole tactical strategy is working --  for the first time since they’ve started getting naked together, he feels a hell of a lot less inadequate next to Craig’s physique; feels sexy and breathless and stupidly loved. Against all odds, he feels himself stiffening again.

Craig chuckles. “Okay, so I'm on the right track with this. Good to know.”

“I’m as surprised as you are.”

"Nothing wrong with surprises, bro." A playful eyebrow cocks. “You want me to?”

“I would very much love that, thank you.”

He closes his eyes and feels the mattress shift as Craig goes to retrieve a handful of lotion. The hand that wraps around him is warm and slick, and pleasure trickles down Gabriel’s back like warm cream. “Is it gilding the lily if I tell you’ve got a nice dick?”

“Gild, talk, do whatever you want. Please.”

Craig obliges by stroking him, pressure and pacing spot on, twisting his palm over the head every now and then. “You’ve got an awesome dick. It’s awesome and thick and I like having it in my ass and mouth and hands and line of vision.”

Gabriel's laughter stutters into a gasp halfway past his lips.

It doesn’t take long, considering he’s already riding the tail end of an orgasm. Craig’s hand is quick and skillful, relentless in that way that all his efforts are. Before long, Gabriel is moaning aloud and being very, very grateful that Craig’s kids are eating pizza with extra olives and watching Poltergeist with their mother. 

He comes with a sharp, soft cry. Craig milks him through it, just watching him, and Gabriel can’t even remember to be self-conscious about his sex face. And somehow, they end up right back where they started -- wrapped up safe and content in each other’s arms.

“I’ve done absolutely nothing to deserve you,” Gabriel murmurs.

“River. Waffle place incident.”

“...Point.”

“You get mine, though? You know I’d be into you no matter what you looked like?” 

Gabriel’s heart does a silly flip. He leans up and kisses him, and aims to say something deep, something meaningful... “You. Best at pep talks.” Craig smiles and pumps his fist, so he guesses that’ll do.

He’s spent. He’s so completely spent. He feels himself blinking out like a sedated hippo, like an old man at 3 PM, and elects to put those last minutes of consciousness to good use by running his fingers through Craig’s scalp stubble, just the way he likes.

He thinks that this is probably breaking his twin probation, legally speaking, but they are and will remain under the impression that he spends his date nights with their father watching Mystery Science Theater and learning why too many spinach smoothies are bad for your kidneys.

He thinks that Alex would be okay with this, and would tell him to be okay with this. That maybe one day, when this is all over, they’ll all meet up for a weird brunch on the gayest side of Heaven, and Alex will mix ginger-strawberry mimosas and make fun of him so hard.

And lastly?

He thinks that the single moms of Maple Bay have _no idea_ what they’re missing.


End file.
